Unfinished Business
by EleanorKate
Summary: 23 September 1957. The night before the wedding.
1. Chapter 1

Ever so carefully Chummy shut the window to her room, the catch creaking as she pushed it down, making sure it was tight closed for the night. She felt the cool evening breeze brush over her arms, making her shiver for a moment as she checked the catch again; just to be sure it was shut.

Pulling the curtains across, plunging the room into a semi-darkness only illuminated by her dressing table light, she ran her hand down the flowery brown material, neatening it but also contemplating that tonight was her last night at Nonnatus. Her last night. No more nights after this very one. Forever it would seem.

Chummy was sad to some extent, but who wouldn't be? This building had been the first place she truly felt as though she had a home and people that cared for her and it tied her perhaps more than she realised. Still though, once tomorrow was over, she would finally have a proper home of her own; one she could build tentatively towards the family that had eluded her for all of these thirty two years.

Her and Peter. Peter and her and even if it just stayed like that, she'd be quite happy as they would be that stability she craved. Chummy ran her hand down the curtains one last time anchoring her thoughts as she took a deep breath and picked up her coat from the back of her chair and slipped it over her shoulders. At her feet was her suitcase ready for honeymoon; the remainder of her belongings already up at Empson Street ready for their return that he had kindly helped her with just yesterday.

Chummy, for some reason and just to be neat, leaned down and turned the handle of her suitcase over so it was facing her bed. A memory suddenly struck her and a smile form quickly on her lips.

 _"_ _Is that everything?" Peter had asked, standing in the middle of her room just yesterday. He'd only been allowed up by Sister Julienne on the premise that there were bags to carry and the promise of 'no more than five minutes'. Chummy had almost insisted that she was perfectly capable of carrying her belongings downstairs, but the Sister was having not a word of it._

 _So, he had followed her upstairs to do his duty. Her bags were already packed and were ready and waiting and her whole life - in three suitcases and a borrowed hold-all - stood before them both. She didn't know whether to be sad or not but she was never one for possessions and symbols of your wealth and if this was all she had in the world, then so be it._

 _"_ _Yes, that's all" she had smiled back at him as he, in error, picked up the one bag that was staying. "Except that one. That one's coming to Ramsgate"._

 _Peter had nodded and for a moment bitten his bottom lip. "I am looking forward to that you know"._

 _"_ _Me too", Chummy replied, seeing him just gently push the door behind him closed with his foot and take a step towards her. "What are you….?"_

 _The end of the question had been lost in the kiss that followed, walking them around so she now had her back to the door; too quickly for her to plead that he stop for fear of discovery. How their relationship had escalated these past few weeks was beyond her current comprehension so she indulged for the moment, pushing aside worry for now._

 _She'd felt his hand creep down her hip, pulling her closer to him and then the gentle shift of the heavy material of her skirt start to climb up her leg and his hand slip underneath. Chummy had freely rested her head against the door, exposing more of the skin on her neck that he was currently investigating rather intently. She knew she was not by any means vocal; too self-conscious to even let him know that she did so very much enjoy him, but she might just hope he could feel the pulse in her neck or that her body was responding to the fact that his fingertips had dipped inside her elastics. It would have been so easy to take a few steps to her left if there wasn't a Nun downstairs watching the clock._

 _That said, she had not wanted him to stop but with the footsteps she'd heard coming along the corridor, Chummy had tapped away his hand. He had whispered three words to her as she straightened her skirt. "Unfinished business, Camilla…."_

 _She had a smile on her face though when he went about his porter duties and with a nod to Sister Monica Joan, whose feet had been the ones walking, they had both departed._

Chummy shook her head quickly; part ashamed and part….well…you know... from the rather pleasant memory that decided to interrupt her preparations for her night out.

She collected up her handbag from the end of her bed, checking quickly inside for her purse and handkerchief and found herself ready to go. Pausing for a moment as she was about to switch off the light she was sure she heard someone outside her room again; just the scratch of feet on the polished floor or at least it sounded like that and it had caused her ears to prick up. Chummy thought she was just hearing things or it was perhaps Fred in the yard and her hearing had deceived her. The brass light switch depressed she went for the door handle.

"And where on earth do you think you are going at this time of night young lady?" Trixie asked, arms folded and flanked by Jenny and Cynthia as the three formed what they believed was a rather efficient obstruction to Chummy's exit from her room. So those three where what she heard and her ears hadn't tricked her.

The three girls had heard her scrabbling around, drawers closing and her dressing table chair creaking and had hoped maybe that they could have an evening of gossip in anticipation of the days to come. It might be there last 'girl's night' for a while particularly as of tomorrow Chummy would have a husband to contend with. All three had freely admitted to each other that they would miss her company even though she wasn't going very far and they were a little sad.

"Out?" the tall nurse replied, doing up her last button and hoping her hair was as straight as it could be ahead of the slight breeze she had felt when she closed the window. She thought it fairly obvious where she was going bearing in mind she had her coat on and her bag over her arm so she was trying not to sound too sarcastic.

"And who with?" Trixie questioned, frowning at her knowing she sounded like one of her old school teachers but needs must.

"Peter", Chummy responded catching the eye of all three of them. Again a rather obvious answer when you thought about it. Who else would she be going out with of a Friday evening apart from him? In fact, she was meeting him at the end of Lodore Street in five minutes so she had better get a wiggle on before he started wondering if she had forgotten.

"You can't!" Cynthia exclaimed shaking her head as the three continued to line up in front of her. They had not factored in she had plans already; assuming she didn't bearing in mind tomorrow. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride, you know that".

"Oh don't be such a silly billy" Chummy responded walking past them. "Besides I promised I would go out for supper with him tonight". The 'last supper' as he had termed it had been planned for over a week even though they had been to the dining rooms on countless occasions, there was something particular about this Friday night. "One can't just not turn up!" she concluded with an affectionate smile.

He'd truly think she had suffered from cold feet if that happened and that was that last thing she wanted with all the troubles that had been going on recently. No, the risk of 'bad luck' aside she was going come what may. It would ease her nerves to see him; wondering if he was anxious too about tomorrow save them both sitting a mile apart worrying how the other might be feeling.

The three chased after her still. "Chummy you're getting married in the morning" Jenny continued, conscious too as to what had gone on before. "We know it's an old tradition, but we don't want anything to go wrong for you. Or for him". She paused for a moment. "For both of you because it's such a special day".

Chummy smiled indulgently at her friends knowing underneath it all that that was the root cause of it - nothing but wanting the best for their friends. "Nothing's going to go wrong. It'll be perfect because you've all been telling me it will be for the past five weeks! Incessantly one might say!" she added with a knowing grin before she turned back and continued walking towards the staircase, thinking she'd have to get a move on even more now as the minutes were swiftly ticking by.

"We know we have" Cynthia said as the three, arm in arm, scuttled behind her, "and it will be perfect regardless but you need to get a good night's sleep too! You can't walk up the aisle with suitcases under your eyes!"

"It's a supper" Chummy replied, spinning around to face them again and taking another glance at her watch; it now being dangerously close to six o'clock and she knew he'd already be there. "One has to go. I promised him".

So with that she sped off down the stairs hearing her friends and colleagues sigh behind her, realising there was no way at all they were going to be able to persuade her to stay in tonight regardless of what day it might be tomorrow.

Carefully closing the heavy wooden door to Nonnatus behind her, glad nobody else impeded her swift exit, Chummy straightened her coat again, took a quick look at the sky as the wind was picking up even more. With long strides she set off down the steps and towards where she knew Peter would be waiting for her just a street away - probably checking his watch.

She might just have to apologise to him for her tardiness. Repeatedly.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sorry, sorry, sorry….!" Chummy uttered as soon as she realised it was Peter standing on the corner propping up the wall of the closed butcher's shop. She had practically run down from Nonnatus, no longer caring what her hair looked like or if she looked a little bedraggled. As she belted down the road, anything to make sure he knew that she hadn't abandoned him as that would be the very worse, she saw her watch tick on and on. If she had to run then so be it and so she did. "The girls cornered me!"

"Oh?" Peter asked, holding out his hand so he could take hers up. He wasn't entirely interested but he had to show enough willing to his soon to be wife. The girl's conversations – or her reports thereof - he avoided like the plague as it usually meant dresses, lipstick or childbirth and all induced temporary deafness in the Constable.

"Yes", Chummy replied, slightly out of breath as they started to walk; her actually having no idea where they were going this evening as he'd never actually said. "It's bad luck for me to see you on the eve of the wedding, all of that…."

"Oh" he repeated, glad it wasn't something important. When he'd suggested supper it simply hadn't crossed his mind that some might see it as bad luck that he should see his bride this close to the ceremony. He just thought it would be nice to have supper with her the evening before the wedding as they hadn't really seen each other all week and it was nothing more than that. His mother had said very much the same to him a few days ago; telling him just those same stories it seemed his fiancée had heard too. Peter, however, firmly believed you made your own luck and had smiled and nodded politely at his mother, still determined they would have their date though.

"Well it's hardly a traditional wedding after all so I doubt all of those daft old wives tales apply to us…" he offered as they walked along the road. He was right about that she would easily acknowledge. No white dress, no veil, no groom in tails, the bride's father noticeably absent and, as he had put it, 'Nuns for bridesmaids'.

"And one is not remotely concerned" Chummy responded as they waited to cross the road, her just following to wherever he was leading her. "Tomorrow is going to happen even if the Church falls down!"

Peter smiled as they crossed, raising his spare hand in thanks to a driver that had stopped to let them cross. Despite what he had said, he was not too keen on tempting fate and there was still the question of Mater and whether she would deign to turn up. That was perhaps a more realistic worry than some fantasy of a tradition. It comforted him that she seemed to be so determined now but it still nagged him that there was that part about objections to get past. Even in the rehearsal, although he would never admit it to his fiancee, in his head he could hear her mother's voice booming up the aisle at the very point Father Williams said those words; imagining her marching up to the altar and dragging Camilla away.

Trouble was he really didn't trust her mother not to stand up and try a final attempt to stop the wedding that way and until those words were said, and that silence had drifted away, then he would then rest completely easy.

"So where are we going?" Chummy asked, breaking him out of his train of thought for which he was silently grateful. Whilst he hoped perhaps in time he might get to talk to her properly and try to understand the fractured relationship she had with her daughter, right now things like his future mother in law made him distinctly bilious.

"I thought we might go to our usual for a bite to eat and then see", he replied, leading her left and away from the main road through one of the multitude of alley ways that scattered from side to side.

She was starting to like the words 'then see'. It tended to end in long walks or stolen kisses in corners but. above that, she did have a burning question for him. "So why are we going in the opposite direction then?"

"Bottom end of Dee Street's shut" he replied casually. "Some chap got knifed a handful of times in the chest in broad daylight this afternoon. We closed it off".

"Oh..." Chummy responded, eyebrows raised and not really knowing what to say when he sounded so blasé about it. She might have a lot to learn as a Policeman's wife.

With that news imparted, she walked freely by his side the short distance to the dining rooms where he had already reserved their booth some days ago.

Arriving, they found their usual spot shut away at the back so they could see everything and everybody. He was glued to her side and having been presented with the menu by the waitress, Chummy particularly had already decided what she wanted. Both knew these menus back to front already the amount of time they spent here so barely had to look although she only felt like something light.

"I might have steak" Peter began, putting his menu face down on the white and blue checked table-cloth. "Just thinking I've got to build myself up for the next couple of weeks, haven't I?!"

He patted his belly and saw her trying not to laugh; even though he was wearing a very large grin. Despite the fact that boundaries had been crossed there was something rather special settling his stomach about a honeymoon in her company where it was just them and nobody else in somewhere other than Poplar. Peter also felt relaxed enough around her to make potentially inappropriate jokes like that without feeling like he should just quickly dig himself a large, deep hole to crawl into and die quietly.

"You flatter yourself. You really do" she replied flatly, interrupted by a waitress bringing them over a jug of iced water and glasses who then took their order. Steak for him as he had promised himself and white fish and vegetables for her.

As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Peter shifted in his seat settling down, hearing the squeak of the brown leather underneath him as they waited for their supper. "So are you all set for tomorrow then?"

"I'm not telling you what my suit is like or what colour it is or …." she began, not looking him in the eye. He had already tried that once when distracted, she nearly ended up telling him all about her dress. The bride had to have some secrets after all and the dress was just about the only one left.

He took up her hand, a look of grim seriousness on his face and she turned to him. "I didn't mean your dress, or flowers or anything like that. I _meant_ that you'll be there…"

She sat up straight, puzzled, but knowing why he asked. "I am not going anywhere except after our dinner, back to Nonnatus to sleep and wake up tomorrow morning, get dressed, make sure one doesn't look a categorical state and walk out of that Church as your wife".

"Good" he smiled, kissing the back of her hand. He was probably just as nervous as she was and it would probably be worse tomorrow. After everything they had been through all he wanted was, yes, indeed for her to walk out of that Church as his wife. She however had put all her worries behind her – at least as far as she could disguise them - and determination had taken their place.

Peter released her hand to take a sip of water, noticing the dining rooms were really rather empty for a Friday evening. Not that he was too concerned by that though as sometimes you couldn't hear yourself think with music playing and people talking and he much preferred the peace. Taking a quick glance around to make sure that everyone else was occupied he set his hand down on her knee, rubbing his thumb over the soft cotton of her skirt.

"Peter, stop it" she whispered, placing her hand down on his to still the movement. The memory of yesterday shot into her mind and for a moment she felt really quite all over the place.

"No one's looking." he replied, leaning over so she could feel his breath punctuate against her cheek. "They're far too interested in their supper to pay any attention to us". She relaxed for a second as she felt him squeeze her knee. Perhaps he was right. Nobody was interested and it was only her imagination running into overdrive that had forced her to place her hand on his.

"Shall we go for a walk after we've eaten?" she asked, feeling him flex his hand again as he breathed out heavily.

"Don't see why not" Peter replied, taking another deep breath as he started to wind down. "I'd rather not be dropping you back off at Nonnatus at all….."

"I _can't_ " she responded, leaning closer to him and keeping her voice even lower than a whisper knowing what he meant as practically every date they had had these last few weeks had ended up in his lodgings but it felt different tonight in particular. "The girls will be stalking the front door for me! I daren't!"

"In just about…." Peter looked at his watch, running the numbers through in his head. "...Twenty four or so hours you will be in a room with me in Ramsgate with absolutely no method of escape…" Chummy knew he was joking and took it that way.

"Yes I know that but…." she replied, still her voice low although he did not say a word. She looked at him, utterly unable to resist when it came to it and those feelings buried deep inside her that she was meant to suppress if she thought of herself a decent girl were betraying her once again.

There was unfinished business to attend to after all.


	3. Chapter 3

"You should have sent that back you know" Chummy said as they walked along arm in arm. The evening was closing in and the wind had picked up a fair bit blowing the distinct odour of the docks up to the main road to their noses.

"It was fine", Peter responded, pulling his collar up tight as it was getting chilly now even they still had a fair way to walk. He was starting to regret not suggesting the bus but it was too late now.

"Peter that steak was _charred_ , not well done!" Chummy exclaimed looking at him. It may have been a cosy corner they were situated in but even in the dim light she could see that his supper had seen the wrong side of a frying pan.

He would admit that it _was_ a bit on the chewy side but it paled into insignificance against some of the unidentified dinners his mother had cooked up all these years from the leftovers or when Dad's wages didn't stretch. "Well, I'll just remember for next time" he replied, really not altogether that bothered as despite the bravado his appetite had taken leave in lieu of the fact that tomorrow was edging closer. "It doesn't matter Camilla" Peter continued, squeezing her arm. "Lesson learned for next time we go".

As the pair walked, they picked up the pace slightly. The slight wind was now really rather quite ill and they were both even colder and they were looking forward to being under cover. Or _covers_ as the case was inevitably going to be as Chummy felt the fluttering in her stomach again as they got closer to Empson Street. How safe she felt lying there in his arms – even if it was just lying there – and she would only confess to herself that during those moments, she was absolutely and utterly at peace. Plus the fact he always tended to be lovely and warm and those times when he…..

"Camilla...?"

His voice snapped her out of her daydream.

"Sorry" she replied, seeing the whole building in darkness apart from where she knew his landlady's sitting room was, casting a yellow glow onto the street outside through her thin net curtains. "Million miles away". He just smiled before he looked across the street.

"She's in then" Peter muttered as they crossed over. He would have to say that he tolerated his landlady but didn't particularly want to cross her as she had a temper like there was no tomorrow. Thankfully he had only experienced it through several layers of floorboard but he wanted Camilla to like living here – even if it was only temporary- so he would not be annoying Mrs Lindsey any time soon or for that matter, getting them kicked out.

They were long on their tip-toe journey up to his attics and as he pushed the key into the door Peter heard a female voice below them. "Constable Noakes?"

Chummy watched as he leant carefully over the bannister at the woman below, seeing his landlady standing there in her curlers and slippers. "Hello Mrs Lindsey" Peter responded through gritted teeth. He knew full well the rule about no female company and out of the corner of his eye saw Chummy take a step back; praying she wouldn't step on one of the many squeaky floorboards.

"Jus' checkin' it was you" she replied, looking up at him. "There was a funny lookin' chap 'angin about across ve road an' jus' wanted to make sure he ain't come in 'ere". With that she departed and Peter stood up; his landlady clearly having nothing more to say.

"Do you think she saw me?" Chummy asked in a whisper, deliberately hanging back from the doorway as he turned the key in the lock.

"No idea" he responded with a shrug of his shoulders and a smile before he pushed the door holding it open for her. "Believe me" Peter continued keeping his voice low just in case, "if she had we'd have known about it by now. She'd have been up those stairs like a cannon".

Chummy looked carefully behind her again, wondering if the landlady was coming up stairs after all but hearing nothing.

"Besides", he began, walking into the living room as she followed. "She did ask me other day to remind her when we were getting married. She said she wanted to come down to the Church to wish us well!"

"That's nice of her" Chummy replied quite genuinely, even though she was still hoping she hadn't been seen.

The moment Peter closed the door behind her he realised something was missing – or rather had been missing - and turned towards her, seeing she was taking off her coat. "Camilla?"

"Hmm?" she asked, not concentrating on him, only vaguely seeing him walk across to her side and her hands being removed from the buttons. She turned her head towards him with a questioning look on her face as she felt a little push and she sat, straight down onto the back of the settee so he was now leaning over her. One hand was plastered to her neck as she felt his lips scrape down her jaw and that spot underneath her ear that sent her sideways. Chummy leant into his hand, breathing heavily through her nose hearing herself sigh until he moved away.

"I realised I didn't kiss you hello" he offered, quickly unbuttoned his coat and drawing it off his shoulders.

Chummy almost had to shake herself, still feeling the shivers and that underlying _something_ that seems to have reared up between them these last few days and weeks. "One doubts that would have been suitable for the end of Lodore Street!"

He smiled and stepped away. "Sit down. Properly. I'll get us a drink".

She installed herself on the settee waiting for him, hearing cups clink in the kitchen and the kettle whistle away. Chummy relaxed into the cushions and thought about that kiss, distracted suddenly and noticing out of the corner of her eye two suitcases and another bag, lined up under the window. Peter hadn't moved them an inch, thinking perhaps it wouldn't be right so they had been left where she put them. 'Out of the way for now' she had said.

Chummy resisted standing up and going over to unpack, seeing the gold glint of her initials – 'CFCB' – emblazoned near the handle. ' _CN_ ' she thought to herself. _'One wonders if it's polite to get it altered_?' It was one of many random thoughts that had come into her head at the most inappropriate times as the days ticked down.

"There you go" Peter said noticing she was looking out of the small window, or was it at her bags? She looked up and found a mug being held out towards her, noticing he had taken off his tie too and loosened the buttons at the neck of his shirt.

"Thank you"

"Pleasure" Peter responded, taking a seat himself. He had learned these past few weeks that he had to take things at her speed which was why those bags had stayed where they were.

"Fancy unpacking?" he asked, noticing she looked over to the other wall again. It had to be the suitcases. There was not much to see outside as the evening was closing in even more now and few clouds drifted by. Unpacking really meant it was going to happen after all. "I've done a bit of a tidy up everywhere" he continued. "Created some space for you in the chest of drawers and got hold of another wardrobe from Dad's neighbour". Peter could see that she wasn't really listening and took her hand. "Camilla?"

"Sorry" she replied, quickly snapping out of her haze. "Yes….yes, one supposes one could".

"No supposing about it really Camilla" Peter responded taking a sip of his coffee. "Either that or you could just wander around in your smalls for the rest of our life. I won't mind…" he joked, wondering if humour might work. She barely smiled, but it was good enough for now and putting her cup down, she got up towards the window.

If she was in such an odd mood just by the passage of their walk, Peter decided that he had best leave her to it and, as she wandered between bedroom and bathroom putting all her things away, he wondered whether the radio might to the trick to lighten the atmosphere. He hadn't envisaged spending the night before his wedding quite like this but then again he had never been almost married before.

Having found some not too upbeat music on the radio Peter realised that all had gone quiet from the other room. Tentatively, he wandered into his bedroom, finding her sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the far wall, her back to him. An empty suitcase was beside her on the bed and he could see a few of her bits and bobs on the top of the chest of drawers, thinking quickly how right it felt that it was adorned with hand creams and her spare hairbrush.

Peter scooted across the bed to sit next to her and she felt his arm go around her waist. "It will be perfect".

"The girls keep saying that" she responded wistfully. She had had so many conversations with them these past few weeks, all so reassuring but she was still so tentative of what was to come.

"And it will be perfect, simply because at the end of it, you'll be my wife. I don't care how we get there, just that you will". Of all things in the world Peter was determined that tomorrow would go off without a hitch.

She turned her head and smiled. "Thank you"

"What I'm here for" he responded, just giving her a brief kiss on the cheek.

"Peter?" she asked, having heard the music from the other room. "Can we dance?"


	4. Chapter 4

With that, he had stood up and took her hand, walking her into the sitting room again; the music becoming louder as each step brought them closer. He had just smiled and she rested in his arms as the notes filtered around them, not worrying about time anymore and shutting out the rest of the world for this one evening.

Now, however, what had begun as a slow dance to whatever was on the radio, had gradually descended barely drifting over their 'floor', her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands resting far too low on her hips. Chummy had her eyes closed; the almost hypnotic feeling of his thumbs rubbing just below the waistband of her skirt causing her to wander off to somewhere rather heavenly.

Neither felt the need to speak as the radio moved from tune to tune until a loud bang frightened the life out of both of them and they sprang apart. "Its fine" Peter responded, just a touch breathless and with his heart racing in response as he had been well and truly in dreamland only to be rudely awoken by the noise . "It's that bedroom window. It slams when it's windy"

Chummy rolled her eyes and released him to go and close it properly. "I need to fix the lock" he continued, voice drifting away as he walked into the back of the building. She however decided to follow and without him particularly noticing, she made it back into the room to sit on the edge of the bed where she had been before.

"I should do it as soon as I can really….." he continued, pushing the latch down tight and not noticing where she was until he turned. "Oh!" he said, moving forward to take up both of her hands that were held out for him.

"I know we're getting married tomorrow" she started as he stood over her, clear on her face that she had to get something off her chest, absently hearing a news bulletin start on the radio in the other room. "And I know I'm supposed to be chaste and pure on my wedding night and I know even more that my mother detests me for it".

"She doesn't detest you", Peter replied. Anything to make her feel better as he had really started to wonder about her relationship with her mother and, indeed, the lack of any kind of emotion that passed between them. He had realised just by her mother's first visit that his version of 'family' was far, far removed from that of his fiancée.

"She does Peter", Chummy responded looking up at him. "She asked me if you….." she hesitated, remembering the panic that washed over her when her mother had pushed further as to why she felt she was not going to wear white. It seems that Lady Browne had thought that first that her daughter was being a trouble-maker. She was soon to realise though that it was not mischief making and Chummy didn't want to use the word her mother used when she cornered her daughter as it had the most horrific of connotations.

"If I?" he asked. He could take bets though on knowing what the answer was already.

"If you forced me to…to…" Chummy replied, losing hold of his hand for a moment as she gestured loosely, too ashamed of herself to say the actual words.

"Well, what did you tell her?" he asked, taking her hand back up again and keeping tight hold this time.

"She thinks I don't know my own mind or that you are influencing me somehow", she responded. "You didn't hear the tone of her voice Peter; or the way she looked at me" she pleaded, forcing her brown eyes not to cry.

"How could I influence you?" he asked; voice soft yet realising his question had not been answered. "If I'm somehow interfering with your free will by loving you then I am guilty as charged and your mother is right". He hesitated for a moment but there was question that need asking, although by rights he shouldn't be all too concerned but she was far important than that. "Did you feel forced?" It was up to him to shoulder responsibility for their decision, not her and he so desperately did not want her to answer in the affirmative.

She looked up at him quickly, surprised at what he had asked. "Not remotely" Chummy responded. "I did what I felt I wanted". For a change. He moved their hands so their fingers were criss-crossed. She wanted to make him happy and if giving herself to him that way was how she did that, then that was fine. If anything it was her that made the decision for them not too many days ago.

Peter moved to sit next to her, side on so his hand was behind her on the bed and she felt a kiss to her cheek, just briefly. "If you don't think you should stay here tonight, I can walk you back. If you don't….think it's right to stay here….."

Chummy shook her head and turned towards him properly, watching her own hand lift towards his neck, determined to feel grounded. He felt that hand sneak under his collar, gently brushing the skin of his neck and jaw with her fingertips. Chummy breathed out resolutely and, feeling oddly confident in herself, carried on his work of popping a few more of his shirt buttons. Peter's brain was not communicating with the rest of him as he watched her hands shift down until his shirt was pulled from his belt. She looked up, hands resting on his chest again. "I'm not going anywhere. Particularly not now and definitely not tomorrow and you never, _never_ , ** _never_** forced me into anything".

He smiled quickly and leant back over to kiss her, her hands back resting just under his shirt collar. She couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up when, now he was making his way down her jaw, she heard the rather deep sigh.

"What?" he asked muffled, still buried in her neck.

"Nothing" Chummy replied lightly, feeling guilty that she had laughed and in an attempt to distract him he felt her palms slide over his ribs pulling him forward and over her as she lay down. He heard her exhale that little puff of air from the back of her throat that he had started to notice was a sign that she was relaxing. Indeed, she was, feeling tiny again and precious and not this great galumphing creature that her mother had tried to force into that horrific peach dress or those terrible patent leather kitten heels.

His palm was flat on her chest as it rose and fell with slowing breathing, finger tips resting on the pulse points by her collarbone, feeling the blood thump regularly. Of all things in the world, as much as the rather physical aspects of this relationship had become really rather quite exciting, he did like just lying there and kissing her or even just feeling her head rest on his shoulder as they sat. That said though, that nagging in the back of his head about taking her home was dissipating as each second past. It was as though they had all the time in the world. Well maybe after tomorrow they might but tonight still felt just that slight bit illicit. Chummy could only hope that no-one suspected anything and she knew, of all things, that her mother certainly wouldn't be broadcasting it to the world through her own fear of this apparent 'shame' her only daughter had brought on the family. What on earth was shameful about loving someone or being loved?

She hadn't noticed Peter had stopped kissing her. "Camilla?"

Chummy opened her eyes quickly, seeing him look down upon her, hand still plastered to her collarbone. She licked her lips, shifting her knee so it was hooked over his leg getting herself comfortable. "Sorry…" she replied, almost batting her eyelashes at him.

"Do I want to know what you are thinking about?" Peter asked. Chummy pressed her lips together and rapidly shook her head. He just smiled and nodded, leaning down again just ever so slightly brushing her skin in another kiss; that hand that had not budged from her collarbone sliding lower to the blue buttons of her dress.

She took up that hand and placed it deftly on her thigh, somewhere near where it had been the other night. He was getting rather impressed by the fact that she was becoming so bold recently.

"Oh…." Peter responded, lifting his head from her neck. "Unfinished business?"

Chummy tried to look as innocent as she could muster. "Unfinished business…"

FIN

 **ps: Sleepyhead - if you read this, I can't reply to you for some reason to thank you for the review - so thank you :)**


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